Gray
by muggleborn.dragon.ryder
Summary: Everything's going gray and blurry...Sequel to 'Darkness'. Done by request. One-shot. Rated T for implied torture.


**_Gray_**

 **A/N: This is my sequel to that one-shot I wrote a frightfully long time ago, "Darkness". I guess I did end it kind of openly, huh? This one is ended openly, too, but it leaves you in no doubt of what's going to happen. Anyway, I really had no plans to write a sequel until the lovely TheStarsInMyEyes requested it. So this is dedicated to her :)**

* * *

Yelling.

There's yelling and there's panicking, and there are Outcasts running all around us, screaming nonsense about something or other. They race around me like a wind, but they fail to rouse my curiosity. I can't tell if I'm no longer curious because I'm no longer really here or if it's just that I've reached such a place of uncaring that nothing bothers me anymore.

Alvin keeps trying to yell everyone back into line, but his rough voice just adds to the chaos of the moment. His scarred face is twisted in anger and annoyance, and his mean brown eyes keep flicking uncomfortably up to the sky, eyeing something I can't see. I am very familiar with his eyes, because I see them constantly. I see them most often in my nightmares. I see them when I close my eyes with the intent to sleep, though I never do anymore. I see them when I look into his cruel, brutal face and try not to flinch, not to show fear. I see them every time I allow myself to remember anything that he's done to me.

I wonder if I took more hits than I remember last night, because everything feels fuzzy, like it does right before you're about to pass out. I don't really remember much of last night, to be honest. I don't…really remember anything, anymore.

I can't really hear what Alvin is shouting over the terror of the Outcasts, but I think it might be something about "he's only a boy!"

And, barely audible over the din my enemies are creating, fellow Berkians are leaning over, scooting closer to each other in their cages, stretching as far as their chains will allow, whispering something to each other. The people who hear the whispers look immediately heartened and pass it on. It's getting hard to see the Outcasts now. They've become masses of white and I can't distinguish one person from another anymore.

"Tuffnut."

The voice is quiet yet it's laced with hope.

I want to ignore it. I know that there is no hope any longer. There is only Alvin and his Outcasts and beatings and pain and darkness.

"Tuffnut!" The voice is a little louder this time, insistent.

I lift my gaze slowly from the dirty floor of my confines. I would like to know what is making the other Berkians look so hopeful. Yet my brain is moving slowly, and I don't really process anything – who is that face staring at me? Gray eyes, red hair…a red beard…it looks like the chief, but it's hard to see. Are my eyes watering? No, they're not – the chief is just fading. He's fading into the mass of white, except he's darker. He's gray. Just a tiny gray smudge in my vision.

"Tuffnut!" He sounds almost impatient with me now, this pathetic gray smear, our broken-down chieftain. "Look at me, boy." His voice is rough.

Whatever you say, gray smudge.

"Hiccup's coming back."

Why does he sound hopeful about this? That's his son. The stupid selfless idiot must have come back for us.

"He's gotten other people, Tuffnut. He's riding right toward us!"

Oh, chieftain, why do you sound so happy? My chest is hurting too badly to take in much, but I know that Hiccup coming back is not a good thing. Alvin has won. Oh, Chief, why do you sound so happy?

I'm so tired…I just want to sleep…I just want to sleep away these Outcasts in their panic, and these chieftains hoping, these gray and white and green and black and brown and red smudges all over everything. I want to sleep away these last few horrible weeks, when I thought nothing would get better, when it was all just pain and beatings and people sneering at me, taunting and threatening me in the darkness. I want to sleep all the pain away…

The whispers float around me like a million sad gray smudges, all these people, these Berkians nothing like they once were. They are all sad, they are all gray. "Hiccup's coming. Pass it down."

"Hiccup?! Hiccup's coming?! Hiccup! He's coming! Hiccup's coming! Pass it down!"

"What? Hiccup? He's coming back?! Hiccup's coming! Pass it down!"

"Hiccup's got an army! Pass it down!"

"An army? Hiccup's got an army! Pass it down!"

I close my eyes against their whispers, because why are these people getting their hopes up? Don't they see? Nothing is ever going to change. Hiccup might be coming, but he can't stop Alvin on his own. Nobody can stop Alvin.

A plasma blast? Right there, it was, purple fire exploding on contact with that wheelbarrow. Fire, in the color only Toothless has…

Doesn't Hiccup see? This is a death wish.

He's playing right into Alvin's hands. I know it, because I've heard Alvin talking about it. Alvin always knew Hiccup was going to attack. He just never thought Hiccup was going to attack with an army. All in all, the Outcasts are well-prepared for this. The weapons begin flying through the air, so many so fast that even a Night Fury hasn't a hope of escaping them all unscathed. The dark creature lets out an ear-splitting roar, and the sound makes my ears ring. Or maybe they were already ringing before that. Who knows?

He's down. Toothless is down, hurtling toward the ground, screeching and roaring in alarm, trying desperately to protect Hiccup. The great creature falls to the ground, landing with a heavy thump in front of Alvin. The dark lump, quickly fading into another smudge, lays unmoving and not breathing for several long seconds. I wonder if Toothless is dead. The great dragon, the defender of Berk, the Night Fury…is he dead? My lips tighten at the thought.

But then the wings begin to move and I think he's not dead – but then Hiccup crawls out, coughing and gasping, wiping his smoke-blackened hair out of his eyes. Outcasts have already surrounded him. It's hard to keep watching, now – my vision is blurring so much I can hardly see anything at all. I see other dragons flying fast toward Hiccup, other people he's managed to rally into helping, flying toward certain death.

"Man the cannons!" Alvin barks to the men. "All men on board, grab your weapons everybody!"

I have to hand it to them – for a tribe of violent barbarians, they work really well together. They're all doing their jobs – the archers and spearmen and knife-throwers launching all manner of the listed weapons, while the swordsmen and the like use the cannons to try and down their prey.

Toothless is still alive, I see when Alvin approaches Hiccup himself, grabbing him by the shoulders, forcing him down on the ground and beginning to bind his hands behind his back. Hiccup struggles, but it's useless – he's five-foot-one and has zero muscle, and Alvin's a good six feet or more, and much stronger. Toothless is growling weakly, though, trying to get up the strength to stand. He appears almost unable to do so, and I wonder how badly the fall wounded him.

And this army flying right toward us – they are outmatched, outfoxed, outnumbered.

* * *

"Hiccup, are you okay?" Astrid's cage is not too far from mine, and Hiccup's is even nearer, so I can hear every word they say.

"Oh, couldn't be better, really," Hiccup replies softly, a sarcastic tinge to his voice. "Just locked up awaiting death. How are the others? Have they been badly hurt? Are you alright?" Because his immediate concern is not himself. Stupid, selfless, idiotic Hiccup.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Fishlegs had it pretty bad for a bit, but he's pulled through. I don't know where they took Toothless after they knocked you out, though."

They knocked Hiccup out? This is all news to me. I don't remember the fight that well. I didn't really watch it.

"Snotlout's fine, too, and Ruffnut!"

"And…and Tuffnut?"

I know Astrid will tell him the truth, that I'm okay, too, so I don't bother speaking up. She'll tell him the truth.

But she hesitates. "It's not good, Hiccup. Tuffnut…he's…I don't think…"

"Astrid. Is he okay?"

"I don't…"

"Is he…." I can hear Hiccup swallow shakily. When he speaks again, I can hear the tremble in his voice. "Is he…" But he can't say the word. Won't.

"He's getting there."

Am I? Maybe I am.


End file.
